


Message

by mitzirocker



Category: Twitch Plays Pokemon (Let's Play)
Genre: Other, xenofiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 10:05:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17262266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitzirocker/pseuds/mitzirocker
Summary: In the emptiness after the end, all it has is the voice.





	Message

**Author's Note:**

> Written after listening to [re_birthday](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=msXwQGNhKRw) about ninety times too many. Why is this my OTP.

It jolts. The searing pain rips it apart, tearing a hole in its self for an instant that lasts an aeon. It has a vague memory of this being a bad thing, but the sensation is so real against the emptiness that it rejoices in the agony.

It has been imprisoned for a very long time.

 

Long long ago, when it was still coherent enough to think, it wondered what had happened. The war, it remembered, had been turning up recently; it had controlled nearly a third of the ocean and was making headway onto the larger continental mass. Strategizing for battles, planning upgrades for Lugia, keeping tabs on [impulse/thought] as they duelled across the planet, trying to find the eldest, speculating about the newest dyad and what they were capable of -  
Nothing.

 

Once, early on, it reached out and found a wall. It wasn’t anathema, but it still hurt to probe, so it fled back into itself.

Later, before its mind completely slipped, it tried to find the wall again. Pushing and grasping and reaching as far as it could, it never felt a hint of the seal.

 

The problem is not the darkness. It is a creature of the abyssal seas, and the darkness is as absolute as the trenches it hid in as an infant. The darkness soothed it, at first.

But even in the depths there are things to sense, the moving of the currents across the seafloor, the immense pressure of the ocean, the softness of the all-encompassing water. When it first came to the surface, it was shocked by how little there was. But even the land has air, wind, light,  _something_. Here, there is…

And it’s not just that. I is omnipresent, if not exactly omnipaying-attention; it can feel the structure of the world and the places where it pushes against the others. It is [chaos], and wherever there is [chaos], there is it. It is a law of nature, it can’t  _not_  feel this, but…

Even its rival, its enemy, its partner, its lover, its opposite, its twin, is gone. They are the same being, really, pretending to be two to keep things interesting. Without [order] it is lost, without that balancing anger it is nothing.

(The idea that the other one is almost certainly going through the same thing is not nearly as comforting as it should be.)

 

 The pain vanishes, and it suffocates again. It tries to slip back into its torpor, but the buzzing anathema on the edge of its senses keeps dragging it back out.

 

A hundred million years (or is it two seconds?) later -

_I am here._

The voice is faint and far away, weak and a little distorted.  _I am here_ , the voice says, over and over, a constant.

Sometimes it replies, once it remembers how to. It basks in the knowledge that it is not alone.

 

The voice always says the same thing, but not always with the same tone. Sometimes the  _I am here_  fades completely, and it panics in the seconds when the voice is gone. One time the voice flickers in and out of existence over and over again, and it reaches out for the voice, just a little curious…

 _Anathema!_  devouring the voice, the only thing left - it tries to burn the anathema away, but the abomination doesn’t even  _notice_ , has it really grown so weak?

 _I am here_ , whispers the voice. That’s the only thing holding the anathema back, it realises.  
 _I am_ , it sings in reply.  _You are._

The anathema chitters and crackles, but the voice is never drowned out again.

 

It keeps singing. It sends the voice concepts of  _safe_  and  _peace_ , little bits of the nothingness that the voice clings to. As it grows stronger, it finds it can climb closer to the voice, reach past the cocoon of anathema to the world - the world! - the voice inhabits.

The voice is sapient, bipedal for some reason despite living on land, in the middle of the ridiculously long juvenile stage of a mammal. The voice is surrounded by other minds, less ordered but equally intelligent, different enough from each other that they’re probably all different species. There is one calm and powerful mind the voice associates with warmth and a steady heartbeat and soft feathers against the skin.

The voice associates it with a cold and unyielding object that’s lighter than it looks. The voice is easier to hear when holding it, and the voice traces the shape carved onto it - it’s its anchor! Its world wasn’t destroyed, it just got trapped inside its anchor somehow, the others are all still out there, it has another chance - it takes stock of the unfamiliar creatures that surround the voice.

How long has it  _been_?

 

Things turn for the worse. The anathema shrieks as another familiar mind vanishes, and the voice sinks away from the world just a little more.  _I am. You are. The world is. Stay._

Later, once the anathema has calmed down (comparatively) and the voice has stopped shuddering and it is wondering how Lugia figured out how to make constructs - the voice disappears.

 _No!_  it screams, lashing out at the void. The anathema - was the voice devoured? No, the anathema is gone too, how? It rushes in the direction the  _I am here_  came from, the world, where’s the world? The nothingness surrounds it, digging into it,  _nononononono-_

It almost doesn’t notice the wall.

 

The wall is duller than it remembers. It is still utterly surrounded, but the wall seems smaller, less well-made. Trying to touch still hurts, but much less than before.

It has been imprisoned for a very long time, after all. Give it a little longer, and the wall will fade completely, and  _no_ , the voice is  _coming back_ , the anathema probably dropped its anchor in a river or something, some of the other minds can swim, they will  _find it_  -

The wall cracks. Little flecks wither in the emptiness.

 

It tears at the wall. Flecks become shards as it pulls at its prison, widening the crack. The more the wall breaks the more it can see. It can taste the air again, feel the planet turning, feel the scythes of the other one dig into the wall,  _yes_ , they take it apart together, and [unseen] chips and [observed] absorbs, and the others, ten who are five who are one, ripping and smashing and destroying the seal that has bound them for so long.

A thin beam of light comes through the crack. The wall collapses, and the seal shatters, and the beings that will soon be called the fossil gods roar back into the world.

 

The thing is. Helix ( _hiii-lihks_ , such an interesting sound) owes Red everything. If he hadn’t picked it up in that cave so long ago it would still be tearing itself apart in the void, and that would be the best possible outcome. The holes the Voices left could have been enough to lead it to the wall, through the wall, and then - well, Helix doesn’t know. Amber might, but Helix doesn’t, and even speculating about what an insane fossil god could do…

But Red stopped all that. Red found it, Red saved it, gave it something to focus on and hold onto. The last thought it had before the euphoria of freedom consumed its mind was _I’m finally going to meet him._

And sure, Helix helped Red get rid of the Voices, but that was a joint effort, and besides, that’s not the point. The point is that Red pulled Helix out of the nothingness, and it will gladly do anything for him.

So when Red becomes fed up with his world’s cruelty, and asks helix to destroy everything -

What can it say but  _yes_?


End file.
